Come Fly With Me
by Tadpole24
Summary: Their flight has been delayed for hours now, but seemingly not enough hours that the airline would fork out for them to stay at the hotel just around the corner. Captain Swan delayed flight AU for CS Secret Valentine's.


_**Happy Valentine's Day to my dearest captainrumbellswan who asked for AU fluff for Tumblr's Captain Swan Secret Valentine exchange. **_

_**I am so sorry that this is a little late! I spent the weekend away from my computer and wasn't able to get this up on time. But I hope you enjoy it! Hope everybody had an enjoyable Valentine's Day :)**_

...

Come Fly With Me

…

He throws her a packet of Doritos and a soda can, tipping an invisible hat when she looks up from her not so comfortable seat on the ground and frowns. "What's this for?"

He shrugs, "We seem to be the only ones awake and I couldn't let you starve."

She rolls her eyes, opening the crisps, "My hero."

And he tips that invisible hat again and saunters back over to the large window he had been leaning against.

The airport is dead; silent and warm in that cold way that makes you shiver as you shrug out of your coat. Their flight has been delayed for hours now, but seemingly not enough hours that the airline would fork out for them to stay at the hotel just around the corner.

The lucky ones had found seats early. They had huddled together with their families and friends and put coats over themselves, using backpacks as pillows. Those lucky people slept while the repairs to the plane continued into the early hours of the morning.

Emma though, well she had been running late and the only bit of floor space left for her, after she had confirmed with the man at the counter that she might only _just _ make it home in time for her best friends' engagement party, included a section of wall that had a power point butting into her lower back.

She envies the people around her who have found rest. But she grew up in rough conditions and doesn't trust anyone in this airport as far as she can throw them and she worked hard to earn her possessions, too hard to have them stolen by some punk kid wandering the airport while everyone sleeps. She clutches her bag closer to her and that's when she sees him. Blue eyes and leather. He's leaning up against one of the windows that looks out onto the tarmac and the sky has that sun just set look about it mirroring his irises.

She wants to roll her eyes at herself for the poetic thoughts she seems to be having.

His eyebrows raise just slightly and he winks with a barely there smirk on his face.

She blushes (_freaking blushes! _She definitely thought she was past that stage) and averts her gaze. But it only takes a few moments before she is drawn to him once more and can't help but smile back. He nods, accepting her silent communication, and turns back to the phone in his hand, the light from the screen illuminating his features and making her want to crawl over to him and take him right there. It should be illegal, she thinks, for a man to look so good.

Another announcement had blared over the PA system, alerting the travellers on the Heathrow to New York flight to the fact that they definitely would not be out of the airport before midnight and it seemed that everyone except Emma and this mysterious blue eyed man were going to find sleep until that time.

But when midnight had come and gone, that's when he'd deemed it long enough of a wait to require a vending machine dinner.

She smirks, eating her Doritos, eyes continuously flashing towards the man across the terminal.

He eventually looks up just as she looks over to him and when their eyes meet he nods to himself, as if saying, "Okay, time to talk." He reaches into his backpack beside him, holding up a deck of cards and, when he inclines his head towards her, she finds herself already scrambling to her feet in answer.

The airport is so quiet that they can hear their footsteps echoing on tiled floor as they walk towards an empty terminal. He holds out his hand, introducing himself, "Killian."

She takes it, smiling at his accent. Of course he was British – she was in freaking London – but it was still a novelty nonetheless. "Emma," she replies.

"So Emma," he gestures to pick a seat, any seat, in the quiet terminal they've arrived at, "What brings you to England?"

She grimaces, thinking of the emotional turmoil she has been in for the last few days and decides that she's not quite up to discussing that with a stranger. Not quite yet anyway, "Oh asking the tough questions first up, are we?"

Instead of pressing, he shakes the cards from the packet they're in and takes a seat next to her, retracting his question, "Alright then, something slightly easier. Do you actually live in New York?"

"Well that's awfully personal," she teases, loving the fact that he actually sighs in resignation. "But yes, I do."

He raises his eyebrows in slight surprise that she answered him, "Well that works in our favour then."

He's split the deck in two and offers her half. "Does it now?" she asks, taking her cards.

He smiles, "Well it will be so much easier to ask you on a second date when we're living in the same city."

She swats his arm for that, "Cola and a packet of Doritos does not get you out of buying me a proper meal for our first date!"

"Ha!" he exclaims, "So you _would_ like to date me."

She shrugs, not giving the guy an inch, "You're the only one awake. I was more interested in the guy next to you but he was passed out asleep."

Killian frowns, trying to remember back to the person who was next to him. Then his eyes widen in mock horror. "_Liar,_" he exclaims. He had been sitting next to a balding, middle aged man with a severe body odour problem who was snoring rather obnoxiously as he slept.

Emma smiles, "Fine. But it'll be awfully hard to date when you fly home again."

He throws down a card, commencing a game of 'Snap', "I won't be flying home."

Now it's her turn to raise her eyebrows, "Running away, are we?"

He bites his lip, nodding at her to continue the game, but the mood has shifted and she's watching him carefully, like he's a glass that's about to shatter and she's not sure whether to move away or try to stop it from happening. There's a silence that stretches on between them as they catch each other's eye, then Killian answers her softly, "Now who's asking the tough questions?"

She's not sure what comes over her. She hadn't planned on telling this random man anything about her time in the UK. It was personal and hers and she didn't want it tainted by a stranger rolling around in her memories with insensitivities. However, this stranger seems to be gaining her trust at a rapid pace and she's not sure what to do with that. So before she can overthink it, before she second guesses herself, she pulls the sleeve of her coat back, revealing a shoelace wrapped around her wrist. "A good friend of mine passed away recently. We hadn't spoken in a while and nobody thought to tell me when it happened. I just…" she swallows, trying not to cry in front of this man, "I just wanted to visit him. To apologise."

He watches her intently, "What was his name?"

Her mouth twitches – it's almost a smile, "Graham."

Killian nods and it's enough. Emma has cried her heart out over the last few days. She has called home to her best friend and vented everything out to her and she doesn't need to speak about it anymore but, somehow, telling Killian and having him next to her helps.

He picks up where she left off, hand going to the back of his neck in a seemingly nervous gesture and Emma realises that he's just as unsure about sharing anything special with a stranger. But the words come anyway, "My brother's name was Liam. All I had left of my family and he goes and gets himself killed." He pauses for a monumentally long minute, but Emma can tell he's not looking for someone to talk him through it. He's just looking for someone to listen. "So yeah," he eventually says, hand at the back of his neck again, "I'm running away."

Emma nods her head, understanding his need to flee from all the pain that comes with the death of a loved one. It might be what he needs to get back on his feet, back to feeling himself.

To lighten the mood a bit, Emma reaches out to take his hand, smirking and whispering, "I'm sure I could find some time to allow you to take me out," like it's some secret.

He brings her hand to his lips, kissing it slowly and deliberately, eyes on her the whole time. "I'm glad you said that or I would have had no choice but to induct you into the Mile High Club just to spend more time with you," he answers cheekily.

She resists the urge to slap him again, instead scoffing and holding her head high. "I'll have you know that I am more of a champagne and caviar person," she says in a voice that betrays the truth all too easily that she had definitely been thinking about him in a small airplane bathroom from the second she laid eyes on him.

He doesn't point this out though and for that she is grateful. "I'll remember that, princess."

She rolls her eyes but let's the pet name slide, throwing down another card. They begin a quick battle with their cards, enjoying the peacefulness of just having some company. When he offers his shoulder to lean on she hesitates at how fast she is trusting this man, but there's something about him that makes her certain she's doing the right thing when she lays her head down and finally allows her eyes to close.

His arm wraps around her and she thinks to herself that this is so much more intimate than any one night stand she's had. But she likes it. It feels comfortable and warm and, as his fingers toy with her hair, she feels herself drifting into slumber.

…

The sky is still black when she awakens and it takes her a moment to realise what has drawn her out of her comfortable cocoon of sleep.

"This is a final boarding call for British Airways London to New York service. Could all passengers please make their way to gate lounge 22."

She sits up straight, turning to her left and noticing a very asleep Killian sitting next to her. "Killian," she tries, shaking him slightly, "Hey, we have to go!"

He stirs slowly, eyes settling on her and frowning, "Just five minutes more, princess."

And she laughs, because he's already so familiar with her, so comfortable. And it feels _right_.

"Come on you idiot. We have a plane to catch."

He sits up then, realising where they are. He throws his backpack onto his shoulders and grabs her hand to run.

They make it to the flight just in time, both panting and flushed in the face and once they're checked in and walking towards their seats they seem to both realise that this is it for now. Emma releases his hand and draws it back towards herself, unsure once more of what to do next. They've seemingly formed this bond with each other in the last few hours and she's not sure what to do with that – she's never _had _that with anyone before.

But then he's pulling out a Sharpie and grabbing her hand again, writing what she can only assume is his number across the back of her wrist.

"What are you, fourteen?" she teases.

He smiles, "No, I'm an adult, so I'm also going to write my number on a card and give that to you, but I'm just covering all bases in case you lose one or the other." His eyes meet hers in one of those moments of absolute honesty, "I want to see you again, Emma."

He has no idea of the impact of those words on her, but she feels her heart flutter at the prospect of someone wanting to chase her rather than run away from her.

"Me too," she says quietly, shocking even herself with her desire to see this man again.

They're separated after that, she finding her seat and then letting him pass to find his.

A weird sinking feeling settles in her gut when she sits down and realises that she doesn't have Killian next to her to talk to. Her hand wanders to the pocket of her jeans, double checking that his phone number is still there.

She smiles to herself at how smitten she is and is kind of proud that she is still able to feel this way. It's been a while since she's felt those butterflies of excitement and nerves and she'd be lying if she said she thought she'd never have them again.

They're about half an hour into the flight and she's flicking through a magazine noncommittally when one of the cabin crew approaches her with a glass of champagne in hand. "Compliments of the gentleman in seat 24D," she says as way of explanation, "He also wished for me to apologise for the lack of caviar on this flight."

Emma reaches up to take the glass, laughing, "Oh wow, I can't believe he asked you to do that."

The air hostess joins in laughing and shrugs her shoulders, "Ah well, anything for Valentine's Day, right?"

Emma nods, raising the glass in a mock toast.

She takes a sip of the champagne and counts to three before finally turning around and trying to see where Killian is sitting. She doesn't have to look far though because he has made his way down the aisle to her seat, crouching beside her with a smug smirk on his face. It takes her all of a microsecond to make the decision to kiss him at that point. She's been fighting the impulse all night, but she's had too many moments of thinking that this is something special to not act on it. It's chaste and sweet and over before it can really begin, but it seems to be just the thing that he needs for encouragement.

He nods, neglecting any line of thought or conversation he had originally come over to engage in, standing up and turning to make his way back to his seat while Emma smiles at the fact that he seems to be as affected by her as she is by him.

"Killian," she calls out gently, smiling when she sees that he's still got a look of dazed happiness across his face.

"Yeah," he answers.

She holds up the champagne in toast, "See you in New York."

And he chuckles because it is so simple. This could be so simple. It could be everything.

"You will."

…

_**Thoughts?**_


End file.
